The Accord
by DynamiteInHerHair
Summary: Bested by a human teenager, the Goblin King finds his title and kingdom forfeit. Cast adrift in the human world with only the vaguest memories of his former glory, he is ignored until years later he encounters a young woman with a passion for storytelling who may be able to end his exile. AU-ish one-shot, light-hearted potential romance (so a change from my usual style)


**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Labyrinth or anything associated with it.

**A/N: **AU one-shot, originally inspired by the latest prompt over at the LJ Labyfic community, which focused on the David Bowie song 'I Would Be Your Slave'. I've drawn inspiration mainly from the lyrics below for this story, rather than the whole song. There are a few more notes on my profile page about the story. As always, please read and review.

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**The Accord**

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_Open up your heart to me_  
_Show me who you are_  
_And I would be your slave_

_- '_I Would Be Your Slave' by David Bowie

**o~o~O~o~o**

Of all things Sarah had least prepared for on this impromptu trip to England, rain featured highly (it was summer, after all), so it was with great relief she watched the storms which swamped her first days here recede gradually, leaving a pleasant day for the much-anticipated visit to the ancient estate of Eshley Park. Grey clouds parted and gentle sunlight bathed the picturesque English countryside.

Eshley boasted a colourful, sprawling history, but it's most recent claim to fame, (and the enticement for Sarah and her friend Elizabeth), was its prominent presence in a film adaptation of a famous classic novel. Naturally inquisitive, Sarah longed to compare reality to the atmosphere created on film, for it had appeared truly wondrous.

So far, Eshley was all she had imagined and more. Sarah adored the Statue Garden, and lingered there, gazing over the crystal-clear lake and beyond to the endless patchwork blanket of countryside. She imagined herself the heroine of bygone years, and became swept up in her daydream; she could never suppress that element of her nature, even though she had left youthful fancies behind years previously.

She turned to face the looming expanse of the old mansion house which stood proud, master of all it surveyed. Gloriously gothic, its atmosphere was naturally ominous, which somehow only amplified its beauty. For a moment her attention was captured by a looming shadow at one of the full-length windows, but upon closer inspection it vanished.

_A trick of the light_, she imagined, secretly longing for a resident ghost, or at least a convincing ghost story.

"Sarah, you have to see this!"

Her reverie came to a jarring halt at Elizabeth's excited cry. She barrelled into Sarah, propelling her along the gravel-lined walkway until they reached the garden's boundary. Marking the outer edge of a recess in the wall, a stone arch entwined with delicate violet-hued climbing roses framed an intricately patterned stone chair set into the nook. It provided a perfect haven for two people to enjoy the serenity of the garden, whilst offering a modicum of privacy from the main house.

Sarah moved slowly towards the seat, tracing the craved patterns along one stone arm.

"Beautiful" she breathed, turning to Elizabeth, but Elizabeth was gone…

**o~o~O~o~o**

Late afternoon sunlight teased voluminous clouds into hues of molten gold, and bathed the garden with an ethereal sepia hue.

Sarah felt peculiar - light-headed, a shadow of her former self - almost as though she had stepped into an Elsewhere variation of the garden. She sought the sanctuary of the cool stone chair, relaxing into the shaded alcove. Closing her eyes, she became gradually calmer until the realisation she was not alone startled her back to alertness. A man sat beside her, watching her with amused pleasure.

_Jareth. _She felt safe and protected then, and reclined at his side, comfortable and trusting, her head nestling into the ruffles of his ornate coat.

_Always the showman_, she thought fondly, toying absently with the buckles of the coat. He ran lithe fingers tenderly through her hair, and conjured crystals from thin air; each contained a dream, and he whispered earnestly that they would live each and every one.

Sarah experienced an unwelcome sense of creeping dread as their solitude was interrupted by other fae, who lingered close by, watching their brazen display with obvious disapproval - the human woman fawning over the Goblin King.

"You mustn't take it to heart, dear one. I feel you trembling under their scrutiny - it simply will not do," Jareth purred.

Sarah sat up, meeting his gaze directly.

"As you see, the fae court does not look favourably upon followers. That you are human makes it infinitely more scandalous."

"But I won my welcome at court," Sarah muttered, confused and angry.

"At court, yes, but not at my side. I intend to remedy that." He offered Sarah a black velvet-covered box, smiling at her surprise.

She pulled back the lid and gazed upon an exquisite necklace, roped with opals and diamonds. It caught the sunlight blindingly, the clarity of the stones beyond anything Sarah had ever witnessed. She smiled, gently releasing the beautiful jewels from the pins which secured them. She offered the necklace to Jareth, hoping he would fasten it for her.

"Wait" he drawled, stilling her hand quickly. "You _do_ accept?"

"The necklace? Of course. Jareth, it's beautiful."

"It's more than that," he admitted, informing her that it symbolised their intent to form an enduring bond - equivalent to the human tradition of marriage - which no fae could question. Such unions, he told her, came with terms.

He muttered quietly and quickly, guarding his words from those who wished them ill. Sarah listened with growing disquiet, biding her time to speak, no longer so self-assured. Silence descended as Jareth concluded his explanation.

"So, you can send me back should I fail to do all that you wish me to?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes," he laughed with good humour, "but you may leave at your will should I fail to live up to your every expectation of me."

_I would be your slave__…_ The words of long ago echoed unspoken between them.

"And I would be…" she trailed off.

"Queen, naturally, and beyond reach of their censure" He laughed again as she wrinkled her nose.

"My dearest, it's merely a title - think of it as a badge of protection against society, nothing more. No one will question our bond, we will evade judgment and scrutiny."

Sarah knew he downplayed the truth, for who would ever judge the king? He acted only to place _her_ beyond judgment or reproach.

"A mutually agreeable arrangement?" she asked, suddenly appreciating the lighter side of going against the grain of fae society, which would always view her as an interloper no matter how successful her triumph in the Labyrinth had been.

"Precisely, although to give the correct title - a fate-fulfilling accord. Now, to more important matters."

He grabbed her and pulled her close. Countless leisurely hours elapsed as the golden sky glowed crimson then violet, finally fading into the blackness of night.

**o~o~O~o~o**

"Sarah?! Are you okay?" Elizabeth's shrill concern called Sarah back to herself.

"I'm fine" she whispered, smiling weakly.

"What happened? Are you sure you're okay? You were white as a ghost and deathly still."

Sarah valiantly brushed aside the questions, and gently ushered Elizabeth along the path towards the mansion, assuring her concerned friend that all was well and they should continue the tour. They passed into the shadow of the grand old building, Elizabeth thrilled to finally explore 'that famous house from the period drama'. Sarah - who on any other day would have equalled or bettered her enthusiasm - became quietly thoughtful.

_Was it a memory? A flashback? Some trickery at work? _

This last seemed most likely, for Sarah recalled only too clearly how her encounter with the Goblin King had really concluded; with a fall, for both of them - for her, the descent through the shattered remains of the Escher room, and for him, the cascading depths of she knew not where as he disappeared upon her final refusal.

_But that was for the best, wasn__'__t it? Wasn__'__t it? _

Years had elapsed; reality and fantasy had blurred the lines until she was no longer so steadfastly convinced, although she knew with unwavering certainty she would always have made the same choice under those circumstances. Toby had been at risk, which had been entirely her fault. To contemplate anything else would have been impossible. Additionally, she had been so young; too young to appreciate the potential power of negotiation.

It was only now, years later, that she occasionally woke at night, wondering if she would ever be able to convey to that arrogant, self-assured king that in other circumstances - another time or place - things may have been different.

Sarah put such pointless thoughts from her mind, resolving to focus on the present.

**o~o~O~o~o**

Eshley Hall was magnificent - its grand, gothic outer façade belied the somehow otherworldly brightness of the interior, which offered an astonishing contrast to the imposing exterior. They navigated the front rooms of the house, marvelling at wonders gathered from world expeditions by adventurous ancestors of the current incumbents, and at the optical illusions created by clever construction which blended almost-white wood into the ivory-coloured walls.

Sarah was almost regretful when their tour guide announced they were approaching the rear portion of the house, for it meant they had already seen half, and were therefore halfway towards the exit, and closer to reality again.

"The Long Gallery," the guide announced in an overly-loud tone, accompanied by an all-encompassing gesture.

The vast gallery spanned as far as the eye could see - surely the whole length of the house - and it was a visual wonder. High cream coloured ceilings were enlivened with gold-painted scenes pulled directly from famous legends and fairy stories; mythical creatures danced amongst the purity of the ceiling, telling their ancient tales. The inner wall was panelled in pale-coloured wood, with huge floor to ceiling mirrors encased in it at regular intervals. They reflected the beauty afforded by the full-scale windows on the opposite side of the room, which revealed a vista onto the peaceful lake. Age-old portraits hung upon the smaller wall behind Sarah, and her attention was drawn to a darkly-shadowed young man, serious and wary, for he reminded her of someone she had known in another life.

Further along the room an alcove harboured a huge piano, magnificent and black, with startlingly white keys. The windows here were shaded with diaphanous curtains, which screened out the strongest sun, whilst somehow admitting enough natural light to make the piano gleam. A breeze played amongst the gossamer hangings, teasing them into a rippling undulation which obscured the alcove from full view. It really was like living in another age, just surveying this wonderful room.

The guide stepped forward, entering enthusiastically into another tale of olden times, when a tremendous cacophony tore through the serene air, overpowering her words completely. Sarah turned, astonished, towards the great piano, where a thunderously dissonant yet intoxicating cascade of music rang out, loud and frustrated. A dark shape loomed large behind the curtains. More startling still, their guide remained calm and totally unperturbed by the din.

_Almost as if she couldn__'__t hear it at all_, Sarah thought, as she continued her tale with gusto.

"How can she ignore that noise, so out of place here?" Sarah asked Elizabeth, who watched her friend with ill-concealed concern.

"What noise? Are you sure you're okay?" Elizabeth whispered, as the guide - now utterly aware she had less than their full enraptured attention - turned a steely gaze upon the two young women.

The jarring chords raged on, descending into frustrated, ill-controlled banging, and Sarah felt increasing alarm as it became apparent no one else could hear that soul-wrenching din.

The guide led them onwards down the Long Gallery, and veered off before she reached the alcove, onto a narrow corridor and another area of the house. Opposite this passage, one of the huge windows served dual purpose as a door onto the terrace, and Sarah muttered her excuses, claiming she needed fresh air, and promised Elizabeth she would catch up.

Curiosity piqued even though the music had ceased, Sarah headed over to the shaded niche.

**o~o~O~o~o**

The space was larger than it appeared from afar. The windows here were half length, permitting a wonderful lakeside view, and the lower portion of the room was made up of intricately carved woodwork, assembled to create the perfect location in which to while away the hours with a book, of which there was a wide selection displayed on built-in shelves.

Ordinarily Sarah would have been enchanted, but her sole focus was not on the room itself, but it's inhabitant.

In one of the red velvet covered reading chairs sprawled a scruffy, faded figure. He wore a dirty shirt, once white, now torn and unkempt, revealing a glimpse of his bare chest. His well-fitting black trousers were shoved haphazardly into knee high boots. His dark blonde hair was long and unruly, and glistened in the daylight. Even in his dishevelment he appeared regal, if beaten down. He sat, despairing, clutching a small red book to his chest, his fingers flexing ceaselessly, utterly oblivious that he was observed. Sarah edged closer, intrigued.

Her eyes settled upon the book's cover - a jolt of recognition bought her to a halt and, astonished, she dropped her guidebook, which clattered upon the wooden floor, shattering the silence.

The self-consumed figure froze too, then looked up at her with wide eyes. That moment drew out infinitely, before finally he broke their silent impasse.

"You can see me?"

"Yes," Sarah replied quietly, for once almost lost for words.

He leapt forward, startling her with such unexpectedly rapid movement. He was more agile than a person had any right to be.

"You can _see_ me," he almost wept, reaching out, but stopping before he touched her, fearful she would vanish.

"Of course I can see you," Sarah answered, feigning calmness she couldn't feel.

"Days beyond number I've walked this infernal room, needlessly dodging those humans who cast me not a second glance. In vain I've attempted to attract their attention, to no end; they ignore me. One insolent wretch trod on me when he came to look out of the blasted window!"

He waved the book towards the window in a melodramatic flourish, and Sarah, reminded of the past once more, frowned at the red cover, faded with age.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Sarah wondered if it was a trick - years had passed, but even in this state she could not deny knowing the figure before her. She couldn't believe he didn't recognise her, and proceeded with caution, still half-consumed by that all-too-real vision she'd experienced earlier.

"I'm Sarah. And you are?"

"I'm…" he clung to the book, looking from it to her, suddenly ashamed. "I'm no one - not since I was cast out. I was someone important once, but I was bested by a supposedly weak adversary - a young girl. It's all in here," he offered her the book and she shied away. "I was over-confident, and for my failings the elders banished me to this dismal place of grey skies and intemperate climate. It's my own personal purgatory, where the memories are vague and I'm denied the true essence of who I was. I'm permitted to fully know only my shame, in the hope I will rise from defeat. One day I may be deemed fit to return."

"And if that doesn't happen?" Sarah looked horror-struck.

"I will remain here, unseen and ignored." He cast his head down glumly and returned to the chair.

He laid the book down tenderly, and Sarah hesitantly picked it up, inspecting the cover, pretending she didn't already know what she would find there - _The Labyrinth._

Unconsciously she sat down beside the man.

"I can tell you that story, for I've had age upon age to read those pages," he offered, leaning close to Sarah, who remained consumed with thoughts of the vision she'd seen in the garden.

_How strange, the variation between dream and reality. He doesn__'__t remember me at all._

"No, thank you."

"Shame. Had you accepted, well, all things have their price."

His solemn gaze bored into her, and she looked away, surprised by his intensity. The gossamer curtain shrouding the window blew back on a gentle breeze, and Sarah's breath stilled as she caught sight of the little haven in which her vision had played out. She'd assumed that place was screened from the house; it never occurred to her that even then she could be observed.

The dishevelled man sensed her discomfort, and realisation hit him as he followed her gaze.

"You saw them too, didn't you?" His voice was urgent, demanding, and he turned to her in wonderment.

"What?" Sarah feigned ignorance.

_I didn__'__t just see her, I WAS her_, she thought, but remained silent upon that subject.

"You saw them, those happy people. Who are you really, Sarah?"

He reached out to take her hand, but she moved away, rising hastily to her feet, mumbling excuses that she would be missed, and must return to her party. She placed the book carefully back onto the chair she had vacated.

"Tell me who you are, and I will…"

He stopped short as he saw her step back, and looked away. He was too proud (or too wise, having had so long to contemplate?) to complete the sentence.

His wounded expression hit her in a manner his words could never have accomplished, and she settled suddenly upon an idea.

"I will tell _you_ a story - one which ranges far beyond these old pages - of a king restored to his kingdom, more admired than ever," she smiled, warming to her theme.

"And in return?" He asked, askance, as if such grandeur was quite beyond comprehension, and he feared this woman was joking at his expense.

"What do you mean?" She moved closer, almost ready to retake her seat at his side.

"We must bargain, Sarah. That is the way things are done. In return for your story, for that part of who you are, what would you have?"

Sarah recalled the words of the smiling fae king, the garden's splendour, and the sense of happiness that accompanied that strange vision, which she was convinced could become reality, as though it had always been destined.

"I would have… A fate-fulfilling accord."

She smiled at his dawning understanding, for he had seen and heard them too, those two souls, united and happy.

The two of them settled back into the alcove. Sarah tossed aside the old red book with less care than she'd previously shown, and began to rewrite their crossed paths, and subdue their false starts.

Her spoken tale - the seeds of which had been planted for so long in her heart - paved the way for a promising future, in this world or Elsewhere.


End file.
